Can Buy Nothing Groups Help Fill the Tariff Voids?
Thinking about the empty store shelves we will soon see, I am feeling ever more grateful for my Buy Nothing group. I’ve received so much from my neighbors, from a tiny needle threader to a foldout couch for my office. Half my office is outfitted with things I received from my group. And some of the staples on my kitchen pantry shelves, too.
I wrote my Buy Nothing members a note of gratitude today, thanking them for their generosity over the years. I closed with this plea:
“As our usual supply chains become less reliable, I hope we all turn to each other for what we need, as much as we can. Consider taking a look around your place, your garage or storage shed. What could someone else be using right now? Let’s be here for each other even more in these chaotic times. Sometimes it’s not even the thing we’re giving that is so meaningful; it’s that someone cared enough about a neighbor to give it.”
I used to cling to things that I might need “someday,” but later discovered, all too often, the things all moldy and moth-eaten. I’m less likely to cling to things like extra towels or a bag of beans knowing that I just might be able to replace them with a gift from my group—if I ever did actually need the things.
Then I came across a story about a Buy Nothing member, Marcy Harbut, who had lost everything in the Eaton fire in Altadena last January. Admiring some candles at a farmer’s market recently, she realized . . . she’d donated wax and wicks from her overstuffed shed to the candlemaker through her Buy Nothing group. She held in her hands a candle made from goods that would otherwise have burned up in the fire. Marcy wrote,” it felt good to know that my Buy Nothing gift had returned to me in a new form at a time when I need some glimmers of hope and renewal.” You never know how things we give freely come back to us. . .
During the COVID-19 pandemic, a writer friend and I wrote an extensive proposal for a book tentatively called, A Return to Neighborly (or possibly the Community Giving Revolution). In times of crises, when global supply chains break down, it’s our neighbors, our local communities who can be there for us. We planned to showcase a number of groups, from Buy Nothing and Little Free Libraries to Time Banks and Transition Towns, associations which help forge those bonds even when no crisis looms.
We found a publisher — not just A publisher, but THE publisher of our dreams — who agreed the message was timely and approved of our writing styles. But they ultimately decided against publishing it because we lacked sufficient “platforms” to sell it. Never mind that my writing partner had been in book marketing her entire career; publishers nowadays prefer folks with a bazillion followers than people preferring quality connections over quantity. Not that I’m bitter.
How soon will we only be reading books written by influencers, oligarchs, and fake news pundits? If the First Amendment holds, and books are still allowed at all, that is.
Took a dark turn there.
My co-author and I were also cautioned against using too many examples inspired by the pandemic, because when would anything so unusual happen again? Staring down the prospect of empty grocery and department store shelves. . . our writing in that proposal now seems more prophetic than farfetched.
I’m hoping that this chaotic time (that’s the politest expression I have for it) inspires new ways of thinking, connecting and being in this magical world of ours, ways that are respectful of our natural world, of our personal differences and, of course, has lots of kittens because I really need some fluffy cuteness. That’s the dream on which I’ve hung all my hats, including and especially my Santa hat and of course my wizard hat, because I want so desperately to believe in the phoenix that arises from the ashes. My mental health depends on it.
So, my next task is to scour my house for more things that I can gift—and can get out of the house without my husband protesting that I’m giving away “his things.” My friend in West Virginia is already reporting some empty shelves in her small town Kroger’s. I don’t have a lot of groceries to give, but I sure do have art supplies I can cull. And making art is some of the best therapy I know for navigating . . . whatever is happening here. And I’m glad my Buy Nothing group allows me to share the creative wealth.
Oh, and if I haven’t waxed sufficiently poetic about Buy Nothing already, did you know I made a YouTube of a conversation with another local admin? Check it out here.
What do YOU have to give today?
